Connected
by purehalo
Summary: Sammy angst, his thoughts of his family, life and how he can make it all better. Can be set after DT.


Some one shot Sam angst for the Sam girls x

This could be set after DT but theres no ref there. It's just a piece that wouldn't leave me alone. Hope you enjoy. Please review if you do!

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Sam scrubbed harder, he scrubbed with all his might to clean the small piece of metal. Slowly the silver appeared under the copper colour coating it. It needed to be clean, it needed to be smooth again. He needed it to be alright. He scrubbed harder against the metal. He used his strength yet he was gentle also, careful in his actions. Why couldn't Dean have been careful? Why couldn't his father have been careful?

He rinsed the small toothbrush he was using in the bowl of warm soapy water, the water had long since turned pink and Sam felt himself staring into it's rose coloured depths. The feel of the amulet beneath his finger tips, so real, so close. He felt along the binding which had held the protective jewellery so close to his brother's skin. It felt leathery to the touch yet was so soft, so smooth. Almost pulsing with the memory of the heart beat it had been held so close to for so long. He gazed once again into the water, ignore the blood, ignore the pain. Looking deeper than he had dared before. Searching.

Searching all the time.

His family.

He was alone now, he knew. There wasn't anything else to live for was there?

Mum gone, Jess gone. Dean and his Dad?

He considered calling friends, considered asking for help but that was just too easy wasn't it? Calling, saying Hi. How would it play out?

"Hey Keely, it's Sam."

"Sammy! How are you ? Are you good?"

"I'm ok Kee, I need your help though"

"Sam? What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's ….. my brother, my Dad, it's bad. I need your help"

"What's wrong Sam? What's wrong with your family?"

"Everything"

Sam carefully took the binding from around the amulet and continued to clean the blood from the metal. No, he couldn't call anyone. There was too much he would have to say, too much to explain. Instead he would do what he always did. He would suffer, he would bury his feelings deep inside, smile for the world to see and pretend he was normal. He was fine. Nope, nothing wrong here Sir that a few aspirin and a makeover won't cure.

Sam watched as the bubble's in the bowl began to turn pink. Funny how blood could dissolve to such an innocent colour. To a neutral colour that held no fear, held no history. A colour that instead held itself high within the romance of love. Yet the red on his hands told a different story. The red on his hands told of battles, of victories. Of Losses.

Dean.

His brother was so intent on saving him from anything and everything he forgot to save him from the one thing that could inflict more damage than a bullet. It was Dean that held Sam together. It was the knowledge of his brother. Even at Stanford Sam had felt safe because he knew Dean was out there in the world, somewhere, protecting him. They may not have spoken in all that time but they were connected. Always connected. He could always feel his brother out there somewhere. He'd never admit it but Sam often found himself staring up at the night sky, wondering if his brother was staring up at the same sky, while he was hiding in a forest somewhere, waiting for his prey to appear. Staring up at the stars and the moon, wondering if Sam was doing the same?

The connection he felt was still as strong as ever.

Dean was Sam's anchor and Sam was Dean's gravity. He would die for his brother as his brother would die for him.

But did he have to go first?

All that time they hadn't spoken Sam had still thought about his brother, thought about how he was doing. He was too stubborn though, too stubborn, like his father. One phone call. That's all he had to pick up. One ring, an answer, and two years could have been saved. But if he had answered? What then? Would he have been pulled back into this life even quicker?

Sam had sworn he was out of it, going to have a real life and a real family. Yet through all his anger he somehow managed to find a small keep sake inside his heart for Dean. Hell, even for his father.

How they used to be.

A family.

Those moments, though few and far between were so important. So treasured. Often he would sit awake at night, listening to Jessica's sweet breathing and remember wrestling matches with his brother, falling asleep in his arms when he was three and had hurt his knee while playing army.

Army.

Such an innocent game to a three and seven year old. Yet in their short lives both knew that the battle was real. Daddy would go away, Daddy would make the bad things pay. Daddy wanted Mummy back.

Sam envied his brother for his memories of their mother. He also knew his brother was resentful of the time back in Lawrence when she had reappeared to save her sons, yet focused her attention on Sam. Dean barely had a glance and he knew it cut his brother deeply.

He lost his mother.

Sam abandoned him.

Dad left him.

Then his mother overlooked him.

Dean's whole life was marked with abandonment, yet why did he still insist on trying to keep these people in his life? Keep these people safe?

Sam smiled bitterly. Because he loves us is why, because he cares. Because he would die for us.

Sam washed off the last of the soap and began to rinse the binding of it's red hue, returning it back to it's original brown colour. Sam had never understood why family was so important to Dean. No, that was wrong. He'd never understood why _their _family was so important to Dean. Sam had wanted more, had wanted a safer life, a career , a girl, a marriage and kids. Sam wanted to make the family he'd never had come true by running away from the family he belonged to.

As Sam dried off the binding he realised that his brother loved them both unconditionally. He loved them despite their flaws, despite their habits of leaving him.

Sam gasped as his heart caught up with the realisation a few seconds after his mind had formed the thought.

Dean loved him because of who he was. Dean never wanted Sam to be anyone but who he had become. Someone who Dean had influenced deeply. He wanted more for him, he wanted him to have a normal life but Dean knew. He _knew _that that wasn't possible. Not with what they did or what they had seen of the world, the other world, full of nightmares so real you'd never face away from the dark. They were marked, had been since that night so long ago. They were one of the few that could help the many. Sam stood as he finally understood, he got it. He really did.

He leaned forward and re-tied the necklace around his brothers neck, carefully manoeuvring his head so that the amulet rested comfortably against the sleeping skin.

When Dean woke up he would tell him he loved him.

When Dean woke up he would hug him and hold him.

When Dean woke up they would unite against everything.

If Dean woke up.

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